The news of Aro's latest endeavor spread through the stone corridors of Volterra like wildfire. While the guard dared not speak of it openly, the tension was palpable, and whispers trailed behind Aro wherever he went. Marcus and Caius, his longtime brothers-in-arms, avoided him altogether.
"It seems Aro has truly lost himself in this," Caius muttered one evening as he paced the council chamber. His voice was sharp, his contempt barely concealed. "To soil himself with a human for the sake of an experiment…"
Marcus, ever the quieter of the two, leaned back in his chair with an indifferent expression. "Let him do as he pleases," he said flatly, his tone devoid of emotion with a hint of a smile at the end. "This is his obsession, not ours, we might actually have little niece or nephews running."
For all their criticisms, neither Caius nor Marcus interfered. They had long learned that Aro's schemes, no matter how distasteful, were best left undisturbed.
In the privacy of his chambers, Aro stood over a table littered with scattered parchments. He had committed every detail of Joham's memories to paper, though the process had been arduous. Joham's recollections were chaotic at best—a fragmented history of hybrids born from his experiments. Yet one memory stood out clearly: the grotesque details of a human woman enduring a hybrid pregnancy.
It had been horrific. Joham's memories painted a vivid picture of agony, broken ribs, ruptured organs, and inevitable death. Aro understood this well. Renee would not survive the birth, and he had never intended her to.
"This is a necessary sacrifice," Aro murmured, his tone clinical. His crimson eyes reflected the dim candlelight as he sifted through the notes. There would be no doctors, no midwives. The vampiric world held no knowledge of human medicine, save for Carlisle Cullen—and Aro would never invite the doctor into his home, not with Edward in tow. The risk of his scheme unraveling was too great.
Instead, Aro placed Renee under Heidi's watchful care. "See to her needs," he instructed her. "Ensure she is fed and comfortable. We must allow the child every opportunity to grow strong."
Heidi, ever the dutiful servant, accepted the task without question. But as the weeks wore on, even she could not suppress the unease growing within her.
By the end of the first month, the changes in Renee were undeniable. Her body, once delicate and slight, now bore the unmistakable signs of something unnatural. Her stomach swelled at an alarming rate, the skin stretched taut over the rapid growth of the child within.
Aro often visited her during these days, though his demeanor was far from comforting. He would sit by her bedside, listening intently to the twin heartbeats that echoed in his ears. One was steady and familiar—the rhythm of a human life. The other was faster, almost frenetic, like the flutter of a hummingbird's wings.
"This is fascinating," he remarked during one such visit, his fingers brushing against Renee's wrist as if taking her pulse.
"What's fascinating?" Renee asked, her voice laced with both fear and curiosity. She clutched her stomach protectively, though she did not understand why.
"The heartbeat of the child," Aro said, his tone almost gentle. "It is unlike anything I've encountered before. A miracle, truly."
Renee swallowed hard, unsure whether to feel flattered or frightened. She had long since stopped questioning her predicament, choosing instead to focus on the one thing she could control: her belief that she and Aro would one day be a family.
To maintain appearances, Aro allowed Renee certain comforts. Heidi ensured she had food prepared to her liking, though Renee's appetite had become insatiable. She devoured meals at an alarming rate, her cravings shifting from one extreme to another.
"Do you think this is normal?" Renee asked Heidi one afternoon, her voice trembling as she finished her third plate of pasta.
"Normal is a relative term," Heidi replied smoothly, though her eyes betrayed her discomfort.
Renee was often left alone with her thoughts, which oscillated between hope and despair. On the better days, she fantasized about the life she would have with Aro and their child, dreaming of immortality and a throne beside him. On the darker days, she couldn't shake the image of the drained, lifeless bodies of the tourists she had arrived with.
Aro's visits provided little solace. Though he spoke with calculated affection, his touches were cold, devoid of genuine warmth. Renee convinced herself it was simply his nature, that his love was expressed differently.
In truth, Aro felt nothing for her. To him, Renee was a vessel, a necessary component of his experiment. The growing child within her was his sole focus, the culmination of centuries of thought and planning.
As the pregnancy progressed, the toll on Renee's body became more evident. Her skin grew paler, almost translucent, and dark circles formed under her eyes. She often complained of aches and pains, though she refrained from voicing the full extent of her suffering, fearing it might disappoint Aro.
Heidi reported each symptom to Aro, who listened with detached curiosity. "It is as expected," he said after one such report. "Her body will endure as long as it must."
Heidi hesitated. "And if it doesn't?"
Aro's crimson eyes locked onto hers, his gaze unyielding. "It will."
For all his assurances, Aro knew the risks. The hybrid child was growing stronger by the day, its needs taxing Renee's fragile human body. He had no intention of saving her when the time came—her survival was irrelevant. All that mattered was the child, the key to his legacy.
As Aro listened to the rapid heartbeat of the unborn hybrid one evening, a rare smile graced his lips. "Soon," he murmured, his voice filled with anticipation. "Soon, the future of our kind will be born."
Renee, lying in her bed and clutching her swollen stomach, misinterpreted his words. She smiled weakly, convinced that Aro's excitement was for her and the family they were creating together.
Little did she know, she was nothing more than a pawn in a game she could never hope to understand.
The days in Volterra passed in a strange rhythm, as Renee's world narrowed to her chambers and the life growing within her. Aro often sat with her, indulging her questions about their child.
"What do you think it will be?" Renee asked one evening, her voice soft but strained. She rested a fragile hand on her distended stomach, her skin pale and almost luminous in the candlelight.
Aro, ever composed, brushed a hand along her cheek. "Does it matter?" he replied with a smile, his crimson eyes warm but unreadable.
The answer pleased her deeply. Aro's indifference to the baby's gender felt like acceptance, as though he saw beyond such trivialities. To her, it meant that he cared only for the life they had created together, a sign of the bond she believed they shared.
By the sixth month, the illusion of peace had shattered. The pregnancy was taking an immense toll on Renee's body. Her skin was ashen, her cheeks hollowed, and her once-bright eyes now seemed perpetually rimmed with shadow. Eating human food became unbearable; her stomach churned at the smell, yet she forced herself to eat, knowing it was the only thing keeping her alive.
But the child—no, the creature—inside her was relentless. It grew with terrifying speed, its movements sharp and forceful, as though fighting to break free.
"I think it's killing me," Renee whispered one night to Heidi, her voice barely audible. Tears brimmed in her eyes, a mix of despair and exhaustion. "This… thing is killing me."
Heidi said nothing, but her expression betrayed a flicker of pity. She had learned this before in Joham's nemories, the grotesque truth of hybrid pregnancies. Aro had instructed her to keep Renee comfortable, but nothing could disguise the truth: she was dying.
Still, Renee clung to her hope, fragile as it was. She believed in Aro's promises, believed that once the child was born, she would be transformed and granted the immortality she so desperately desired.
"Just hold on," she whispered to herself, her hand trembling as it rested on her swollen belly. "It'll all be worth it. Eternity… with him."
The pain began one stormy night, a deep, searing agony in her stomach that ripped through her fragile body. Renee screamed, her voice echoing through the stone corridors. The guards stationed outside her chambers immediately sprang into action, their stoic faces betraying their unease.
"Summon Aro," Heidi commanded sharply. "It's time."
Aro arrived swiftly, his composure unbroken despite the chaos around him. He stood at Renee's bedside, his crimson gaze fixed on her. She clutched his hand desperately, her fingers weak and trembling.
"Aro," she gasped, tears streaming down her face. "Please… save me. Make it stop."
He knelt beside her, his cold hand brushing her sweat-drenched forehead. His voice was calm, almost soothing. "It will be over soon, my dear. You have my word."
Renee clung to those words, to the belief that Aro would not let her die. Her body convulsed with pain as the child pushed relentlessly against her frail form. Each movement felt like shards of glass ripping through her, and she screamed again, her voice hoarse and raw.
The room descended into chaos as the child's arrival became imminent. The guards stood at attention, their faces a mix of curiosity and unease. Heidi worked quickly, her hands steady despite the grotesque scene unfolding before her.
And then, with one final, agonized scream, it was over.
Renee's body fell limp against the bed as the sound of a piercing cry filled the air. Aro stepped forward, his eyes alight with something akin to wonder as he took the newborn into his hands.
Aro gazed down at the infant cradled in his arms, his expression uncharacteristically tender. The child's delicate features were almost otherworldly, with porcelain-pale skin that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. A soft wave of dark hair crowned her small head, framing her face with an uncanny grace.
But it was her eyes that captured him most—large and wide, a rich, deep brown that seemed to hold more warmth than he thought possible. They blinked up at him, curious and unguarded, as though searching for meaning in the world she had just entered.
"She is exquisite," Aro murmured, his voice carrying an unfamiliar softness.
His hand hovered for a moment before he allowed his cool fingers to brush against her cheek, marveling at the warmth of her fragile skin. He had never felt anything like it—the sensation of life so pure and untainted.
And then, as he studied her closely, something stirred within him. Her soft brown eyes, her hair, the quiet serenity in her expression—it was as though a shadow of the past had returned.
"Didyme," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The memory of his sister rose unbidden in his mind, vivid and piercing. Didyme, with her gentle demeanor and boundless compassion, had been a rare beacon of light in his long existence. And now, in the most unexpected of ways, he saw echoes of her in this child.
"She has her warmth," Aro said to himself, his voice tinged with something close to reverence. "Her gentleness."
The child stirred slightly, her tiny chest rising and falling with rhythmic breaths, oblivious to the weight of the emotions she had awakened in him.
"This one is special," he continued, his crimson eyes never leaving hers.
He held the child closer, as though shielding her from the world, his lips curling into the faintest smile. "Isabella," he said, savoring the name. "Beautiful and pure."
A pause, and then he added, "Didyme, in honor of my sister."
The name felt right, as though it had been waiting for this moment. Isabella Didyme Volturi—his creation, his legacy. A perfect union of past and future, mortal and immortal.
As Aro cradled her in his arms, for the first time in centuries, he felt something unfamiliar flicker within him—a trace of warmth, of pride, and perhaps even hope.
But as his gaze lingered on the infant, Renee's weak voice broke through the moment.
"Aro…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes fluttered open, glazed and unfocused. "Did… we do it? Will I be… immortal?"
Aro looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "Rest now, my dear," he said softly. "You've done your part."
Renee managed a faint smile before her eyes closed for the final time.
The room fell silent as the gravity of the moment settled over them. Aro handed Isabella to Heidi, his gaze lingering on the child for a moment longer before turning back to Renee's lifeless form.
"She served her purpose well," he said, his tone devoid of emotion.
Heidi nodded, cradling the infant as she left the room. The guards filed out in silence, leaving Aro alone with the body of the woman who had given everything for his ambition.
He stood there for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he turned and left the room, the echoes of his footsteps fading into the cold, empty corridors of Volterra.
Isabella Didyme Volturi had arrived, and with her, a new chapter of the vampire world would begin.
So, you see, Bella is born. I truly believe Aro, in his own way, loved his sister, which is why it made it into this fic. You know her uncle Marcus will love Bella as his own.